


orange tulips

by or-ng-c-ss-dy (o_r_ng_c_ss_dy)



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Morning Sex, Valentine's Day, i promise that the sex is roughish tho, so this is canon as far as i'm concerned, the man really went on stream and said that orange is his valentine, this is gross and fluffy i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29448996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_r_ng_c_ss_dy/pseuds/or-ng-c-ss-dy
Summary: he was pretty sure that no one gave tulips at valentine's day but, well, he didn't really care.or how chuck had never gotten valentine's day until he did.
Relationships: Orange Cassidy/Chuck Taylor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	orange tulips

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is canon because chuck said on stream that orange is his valentine. so happy valentine's day everyone, love and chuck/oc are both real.
> 
> flower language is fun. orange tulips are all about understanding and appreciating someone, feeling connected to another person. i think that'd be a fitting flower for these two.
> 
> please enjoy!

Mornings never used to be their time, long before either of them figured out what they had wanted. Sure, Orange woke up early enough to work out but neither of them were ever morning people, and the thing they did wasn’t a morning thing. They saved it for drunk nights, reaching for each other in the dark, dumb kids who couldn’t see what was right in front of them.

But it was the morning. Early morning, actually, and Chuck was waking up to the alarm he had set last night, turning it off and sneaking out of bed, careful not to wake Orange up.

He still wasn’t a morning person of course but, just for this one day, he could try it out. He set the coffee on to brew and turned his attention to the fridge. He wasn’t much of a cook but it was hard to mess up scrambled eggs, cracking a few into a bowl and whisking them up with a generous pinch of salt.

Orange liked this shitty turkey bacon, swore that it was healthier. It sounded like bullshit to Chuck but he pulled it out of the fridge and got a few strips cooking in a pan. Oil splattered everywhere but, whatever, it was fine. Maybe he should’ve put a shirt on before starting to cook the bacon, but he’d live.

After all, he’d lived with worse. Those nights from before, stretching into the mornings when he’d wake up early to slip out of Orange’s bed into his own, unsure if he was welcome in the morning. They hadn’t been morning people, their thing hadn’t been for the mornings. He’d sneak out and think about Orange waking up alone, like he’d be happy about it. Neither of them had been happy with it.

Eventually, Orange had reached over and asked him to stay in that quiet voice of his, blue eyes unguarded, pleading with him. Stay. So he’d stayed. And he’d stayed the next night too, and the night after that as well. After that, there really hadn’t been a reason to go back to his own bed. If Orange wanted him to stay, he was going to stay.

It had all seemed stupid after that. Leaving in the night, Orange waking up in bed alone. It had never been a good thing, never been what either of them wanted. Orange reaching over in the morning, feeling that he was still there, giving him that sleepy little smile. Had he frowned, in those mornings where he woke up alone? Reaching over into empty space, fingers curling around the sheets?

Chuck didn’t like to think about that. He was going to do his best to make sure that Orange never frowned again, not over being alone at least. He wasn’t going to ever wake up alone again.

He flipped the bacon pieces over, heating up another pan and getting some butter in to melt it down until it was foamy. The coffee maker dinged in the corner, he needed to get breakfast ready so Orange wouldn’t have to wake up alone. He couldn’t break that promise, even for a good cause like making him breakfast. Chuck poured the eggs into the pan, stirring them up every once in a while, getting some bread into the toaster. It was almost ready, it felt urgent all of a sudden. 

He hoped that the smell of food wouldn’t wake him up, in that lonely bed. Reaching over, fingers clenching around nothing. Orange always deserved to have his hands full, and Chuck knew that he was quite the handful but Orange always seemed to manage just fine with holding him. Honestly, Chuck didn’t even really understand why, but Orange seemed to like it. Like taking care of him like that, holding him. It made Chuck want to take care of him as well.

He slathered butter on the toast and plated up the food, glad that Drew’s weird gifting habits had included a kitchen tray, setting up the food on it so he could bring it up to Orange. The coffee came next, he stirred some cream into Orange’s and a few spoonfuls of sugar into his own. Peeled an orange for them to share, putting it in a bowl. 

Orange couldn’t wake up in an empty bed ever again. He wouldn’t let it happen. He’d let it happen too many times for one lifetime.

Carrying a tray of food was harder than it looked in the movies. He wanted to rush up the stairs but the coffee was a little full and he didn’t want to get any in the eggs, so he took it slow until he was up the stairs, sneaking back into their bedroom.

Orange was still asleep, looking blissful and cute, snoring softly into the pillow. Chuck didn’t really want to wake him, but, the moment he set the tray down onto the dresser, Orange was shifting. He stretched and groaned, and Chuck walked over to the side of the bed, sitting down and catching his hand in his when he reached over. He laced their fingers together, bringing it up and brushing his lips over the back of it, relishing in that sweet, sleepy smile.

Bleary blue eyes blinked up at him. The sight of Orange in the morning always made his heart beat a little funny, like it hurt but in a good way. He still wasn’t a morning person but what they did together had become a morning thing.

But...it was more than just a morning thing. Coffee cups and breakfast, rinsing the dishes in the sink because Orange usually made breakfast and it just made sense to be the one to rinse them off. It was more than a morning thing, it was a daytime thing too, lunch and chores, travelling to shows together, the endless trips to Jacksonville, sitting together in the airport, Orange napping on his shoulder. And it was still a night thing too, sharing drinks and touches, taking Orange to a bed they shared, getting him naked under him. What they did together wasn’t a night thing or a morning thing, it was all the time. It was all the time, and he liked it like that. Liked being someone’s all the time thing.

Maybe he should grow up. Put a word to it. A thing.

“Good morning,” he said, instead, “uh...happy Valentine’s Day, Orange.”

Orange stifled a yawn, sitting up and stretching. He blinked over at the tray of food, and then looked back up at Chuck, an amused little smirk on his face.

“Breakfast in bed, huh?” He asked, voice still sleep rough, and Chuck flushed.

He suddenly felt embarrassed about the whole thing. He knew he wasn’t looking too far into it, but he realized that he didn’t actually know how Orange felt about the holiday. Maybe he was one of those guys who hated it, Chuck used to hate it too. Getting flowers and chocolates for some girl he was seeing because it was expected of him, spending a whole bunch of money on a dinner at some expensive restaurant, it was just an obligation before.

But, with Orange, he got up early and made him breakfast because he wanted to. Because he wanted Orange to be his Valentine, wanted to treat him right. He never wanted to do Valentine’s Day until he started waking up next to Orange every morning.

He must’ve been making a face, because Orange was leaning in like he did sometimes. When Chuck had a face on that he didn’t like, like he knew what he was thinking, like he needed to kiss it right off of him. It was a brief kiss, little fingers sliding along his jaw, cupping his face with both hands.

“Thank you.” He breathed, pressing another soft kiss against his lips, punctuating his sentence.

Chuck brought the food over after that, not wanting it to get cold. He segmented the orange, fed Orange a slice, scooped eggs onto his toast, stole sips of Orange’s coffee even though he never liked milk in his coffee. He liked it just fine if it was from Orange’s mug, and Orange always complained but with this little smile on his face. Like he liked it too, stealing a sip of Chuck’s coffee.

He saved the last segment for Orange, feeding it to him, fingers sticky with juice. And Orange’s eyes flicked up to his as his fingers slipped around Chuck’s wrist to hold him in place, chewing and swallowing that last segment before letting his tongue lathe over the tips of his fingers, cleaning them of sticky juice, a promise of what he might give to Chuck for Valentine’s Day.

Chuck would like that of course, a blowjob was a great gift. But Orange was standing, telling him that he had some other stuff for him as well. They cleared the dishes, bringing them down to the sink, Chuck rinsing them off as Orange went to go get what he’d gotten for him. They hadn’t said anything about gifts, but Chuck hadn’t said anything about making him breakfast in bed so he figured that he didn’t have to feel too guilty over not getting him anything. 

He’d planned on hitting up the discount candy at the drugstore on the fifteenth anyway, clearing the section out so they could get a little high and eat a whole bunch of garbage, their tradition for the day after Valentine’s Day for longer than a need to actually celebrate Valentine’s Day with each other.

It didn’t take Orange too long to come in, Chuck drying his hands on a nearby rag. He could see that Orange looked almost a little embarrassed by whatever was clutched behind his back, more than a little unsure, face flushed. Like he was regretting whatever was behind his back.

Bringing him breakfast in bed, unsure about it. Chuck didn’t feel unsure about whatever was behind Orange’s back, he knew that he’d like it because he liked Orange.

“Um...I was getting...stuff at the store, and I saw these and they made me think of you.” He said, not meeting Chuck’s eyes as he held out a plastic bag from the drugstore.

The first thing that Chuck noticed was the bouquet of orange flowers, eyes going wide. No one had ever gotten him flowers and, yet, there they were, right next to the lube he had also bought. They were a little worse for wear, sitting out in Orange’s car without any water, and Chuck wasn’t exactly sure what kind of flowers they were. Tulips, if he had to take a guess. No one had ever bought him flowers before. Flowers on Valentine’s Day, orange tulips. His favorite color, given to him by his...his Valentine.

He’d never had a favorite flower until that moment, staring down at the tulips in his hand. They didn’t even own a vase, but they’d find something to put them in, after…

Well, after he made use of the other thing in the bag. He grabbed the lube and set the flowers down on the counter, pulling Orange up into his arms. He could run up the stairs then, didn’t have to worry about spilling coffee, Orange holding onto him tight enough that he knew he wasn’t going to drop him.

What they did in the morning was a little different than when it was at night, a little less desperate, slower. But Chuck felt a certain need, no one had ever bought him flowers before and, yet, Orange just went and did it. He saw them at the drugstore when he was buying lube and thought that Chuck might like them.

And Chuck did. He loved them, actually. He loved the flowers, he loved waking up in the same bed as Orange, he loved the way they’d decided to make the thing they did into what they did all the time, he loved…

He loved Orange. And he loved him enough that he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“I love them,” he breathed into his neck, setting him down by the bed, gathering him up into his arms, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Chuck.” Orange said, like it was simple, like Chuck’s hands weren’t rough on his skin.

And Chuck had to lean in and kiss those petal pink, soft lips, drawing Orange’s body into his. Into his space, letting Orange lean up against him. He wasn’t a handful, not like Chuck was, but they could hold each other. Things just tended to work out for them, the natural course of things.

They fell into those awful motel beds and told each other that it was out of necessity. And it had been, just not in the way they had known. He needed Orange and Orange was kissing him back like he needed him too, and Chuck was going to let himself be needed and wanted. No one had ever gotten him flowers, and he needed Orange to know that it was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever given to him, a raggedy drugstore bouquet.

But he’d used his words enough for one day, blowing them all away in the morning. They weren’t wasted of course, but he knew that he needed to let his hands do the talking, especially as Orange’s hands were starting to paw at his clothes, lazy at the hem of his shirt. He needed to take care of him in different ways, beyond breakfast in bed.

So he stripped them off and Orange laid in their bed, spreading himself out, trying to look enticing. He always looked enticing to Chuck but, in their moment, still a little sleep warm and golden blond in the February sun, skin flushed, cock already half-hard, Chuck wouldn’t be able to resist, even if he wanted to.

Chuck slid onto the bed, straddling his waist and bending down to kiss him. Orange’s fingers pushed up into his hair, short nails scraping along his scalp. Chuck groaned into the kiss then, sliding his tongue in, turning the kiss dirty instantly. He didn’t have any time to waste, knew that Orange needed to be taken care of. So he didn’t waste any time, getting the new lube popped open, getting two fingers into him right away.

They’d fucked last night, so Orange opened up for him sweet enough, head hitting the pillow as Chuck barely had to prep him. He looked up at Chuck with lidded eyes, cheeks flushed as he panted. Chuck felt frantic in that night time sort of way, Orange had gotten him flowers and Chuck had said that he loved him, just like that, in their sober, morning hours.

He’d always figured that he’d blow up his own spot, tell him while they’re both drunk, lose his nerve to say it again if Orange didn’t remember. But his eyes were clear and bright, and they were both sober and Chuck loved him. And Orange loved him back and...and he had gotten him flowers, and Chuck had made him breakfast in bed because he wanted to do Valentine’s Day with Orange. He’d never wanted to do it before but he looked at Orange and he loved him enough to go that extra mile.

Chuck was still pretty sure that they didn’t have a vase for the flowers but they’d make it work. They had always made it work, when the sex started happening more frequently, when it started happening when they were at home, they made it work. When he decided that Orange couldn’t wake up alone again, it just worked for them. They had made it work, and Chuck was getting inside of him because Orange gave him that look and spread his legs for him just a little wider, so he had to take care of him.

Orange was hot and tight around him, perfect as always. It always amazed Chuck that Orange let him touch him like that, and Orange had said that he loved him but it was still amazing. He still felt undeserving, hand finding his waist and gripping him tight. Like he might disappear or something, Chuck didn’t know. He never knew anything. 

Well, that wasn’t true anymore. He only knew one thing, that he loved Orange. That he’d finally said it outloud, and it hadn’t ruined anything. Orange telling him to stay in that tiny voice, that hadn’t ruined anything either.

He had to move, feeling frantic with it. Heat swirling around in his chest, the strands of his thoughts untangled by that tight heat around him. Orange needed to be fucked, cock hard and leaking as he started to move, started to really give it to him.

“Oh fuck, baby. I love you so much, this feels so fucking good.” Chuck groaned out, and Orange gave him little gasps in return, like he wanted to say it in return but Chuck was stealing the words right out of his mouth.

And that was fine by him, those little gasps and moans. Like it meant the same thing, like he’d said it a long time ago. Falling into motel beds, necessity in a different way. He needed Orange and Orange needed in return, needed him. Letting Chuck take care of him. Maybe it had always been love.

The bed frame was really starting to rock, cheap metal squeaking and protesting under them. They’d probably break it some day and Chuck would brag about it to anyone who would hear, a far cry from the secret it used to be.

But it didn’t break then on Valentine’s Day, it held up just as they had. He’d loved him the whole time and maybe it was cheesy to realize it on Valentine’s Day, but maybe he’d really realized it from day one. It had been love the whole time, he just needed to be okay with it being like that.

He was more than okay with it. 

Chuck got a hand around him, jerking him off in short, tight little strokes. Neither of them were going to last, not from how pent up they were all of a sudden. It reminded him a little bit of their worse days, when he was a worse person and a quicker shot. Nostalgic in a weird way. He’d laugh if he wasn’t currently pounding into the man he loved, trying to get him off, hard and fast.

He liked getting flowers. He probably wasn’t supposed to, he’d never thought about getting flowers until Orange was handing them to him, but...he liked it. And he loved Orange.

It didn’t take either of them much longer to finish, Orange spilling all over his ridiculous abs, Chuck slamming home one last time to fill him up, groaning against his neck. They panted together in that moment they created, a bed they finally shared, and...it was good. He’d never felt like that before. Good in that way, Orange good. It wasn’t a new feeling but...he knew why he felt like that all of a sudden. Had a reason for it.

He pressed a soft kiss to Orange’s throat, and Orange carded a hand through his hair. Maybe they could sleep for a little while longer, but Chuck wasn’t really tired, awake and clearer than ever. He rolled off of Orange and pulled him in close, tucked under his chin, quiet as they fought to catch their breath.

Finally, Orange spoke, voice muffled into Chuck’s chest.

“We don’t have a vase.” He said, and Chuck laughed, large and loud.

“We’ll figure something out.” Chuck responded, because they always did.

And, if he stuck the tulips into an empty bourbon bottle...well, it was fitting, wasn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, i hope you liked it! you can find me on tumblr, @ [ or-ng-c-ss-dy ](https://or-ng-c-ss-dy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
